Like I Can't Breathe
by PoppyandViolet
Summary: Living in New York with AIDS, the depressed Kurt Hummel meets the enigmatic Blaine Anderson at a group therapy meeting, who brings unexpected light into Kurt's life.


**A/N: So... this happened.**

**I know I'm supposed to be getting back to Band Geek!Klaine and Made in the Sun and I WILL update them soooon. But I was listening to Addicted by Kelly Clarkson which inspired this drabble, which someone asked me to turn into a full fic so I did. Yeah.**

**I don't really write angst much so I hope this is okay. Love me.**

**Also, thanks to my magical beta Brittany. I loooove her.**

**-P**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or the associated characters. Also, the quote "childhood is the kingdom where nobody dies" isn't mine. I can't remember who said it. Lol. Also, the whole 'I don't live in New York... I live in the moment" is totally a Friends reference. **

* * *

><p>The walls were a dull sort of creamy colour, almost as if they had once been yellow but faded away under the years.<p>

Just like the people confined by the dry walls of the warehouse.

They were all fading away, dissolving under the waves of death, soon to be swept under completely until they disappeared completely; dead.

_These sessions were painful enough_, Kurt thought bitterly, _without the added problem of bad décor._

But the furnishings were the least of his problems.

"Hi," he said on his turn, his voice a dull monotone as he stood in his place, "I'm Kurt."

"Hi, Kurt," the other group members mumbled in return.

"I have AIDS."

There was no point even lying about it anymore. Everyone knew anyway. It was humiliating and degrading but it was true. He had been stupid and suffered the consequences.

Stupid to think he was going to move to New York and become a huge star.

Stupid to think he had what it took.

Stupid to think that taking a job at a freaking strip club to help pay his bills was a good idea.

Stupid enough to know deep inside that it wasn't, but too desperate to care.

He should have left while he had the chance. Run back to Ohio, get a teaching degree like his brother and settle back into McKinley, teaching the Glee Club, the one place he had actually been happy.

He could have been with his family now. Sure, it would have been embarrassing returning, a failure.

But it was better than this.

Anything was better than this.

"Thank you, Kurt," the group leader said kindly. Kurt gave a short nod and sat back in his place, folding his legs neatly.

The session carried on as usual. There were a few new members but Kurt never bothered learning their names, just their faces.

In a few weeks they'd be gone anyway.

He hated that he was just as bad as these people. There were a few like him, receiving the disease through their own sexual exploits. There were a few druggies. Kurt had never touched a drug in his life and drunk rarely.

He didn't deserve this.

"Hi," a man said across him, his smooth tenor gently caressing the air as he spoke, his voice full of a strange confidence that was rare amongst the dying. "I'm Blaine… I have AIDS."

Kurt glanced up briefly and did a double take.

The man was gorgeous, his eyes a bright ultra-gold that sparkled, even under the dull light streaming in from the shattered windows. He had dark curls that framed his handsome face and he ran a steady hand through them absently. Kurt had a strange longing to replace the hand with his own.

"Thank you, Blaine," the group leader said, her voice almost _too _friendly. Blaine took a seat and Kurt's breath caught in his throat as he glanced up, catching his gaze, his eyes widening slowly before Kurt turned away quickly.

_No_, Kurt told himself adamantly, you can't let yourself get attached. _It will only end in hurt._

_Because in a few months at least one of you will be dead._

* * *

><p>Outside the rain had continued to pour, splaying harshly across the grungy avenue.<p>

"It just doesn't end, does it?" Kurt sighed to himself, pulling his hoodie up with a grimace.

"Well," a quiet voice said behind him, "nothing really ends. Not really."

Kurt turned in surprise, his heart clenching tightly in his chest at the sight of Blaine, a small smile playing across his lips.

"What do you mean?" Kurt asked, a little sharper than he intended. "Of course everything ends. Life ends, people end…"

Blaine's smile quirked a little. "I take it you don't believe in heaven then."

"I'm not religious," Kurt corrected. "I don't believe in God, or Jesus or heaven – or that I'm ever going to get out of here…"

"You don't have to be religious to believe in something more," Blaine said. "You just have to believe in something bigger… bigger than what we have here on earth…"

"Why should I?" Kurt snapped. He had dealt with enough Christians for a lifetime… he didn't really feel like talking about it.

"It makes it easier," Blaine said finally, his voice quiet and his eyes soft. "The disease."

Kurt sniffed. "Cute," he said waspishly, "but it seems to me that it's pretty fucking hard no matter what, so I might see you again next week… if I'm not dead." And with that he turned on his heel and marched down the steps, hoping to catch a cab before he got bombarded with anymore religion talk.

"You're beautiful, you know."

Surprise filling him, Kurt turned to face Blaine with a stunned expression. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had said that to him. Of course, in the business he got 'hot' and 'sexy' all the time… but _beautiful…_

Never.

"Why did you say that?" Kurt asked before he could help himself. "People don't just… _say _things like that… not in New York, anyway."

"Because," he said, smiling sadly, "like you said, one of us might be dead next week, and I might not get the chance to ever say it again."

Kurt felt a small, bitter smile tugging at his lips. "So you're one of _those _people, are you?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're an optimist."

Blaine looked rather pleased. "I'd like to think so."

Kurt had to bite his bottom lip to prevent from his smirk blossoming into a full blown smile. You _really _don't meet people like Blaine everyday… he couldn't help the glitter of admiration pining in his chest. A long while ago he'd been like Blaine too. Of course, he'd always had a cynic edge, but he'd been a dreamer and always believed in himself and his dreams.

Of course the endless rain and cruel Broadway casting agents had riddled that out quickly enough.

And of course, under his admiration is sympathy. Because he knows that one day Blaine is going to be hurt and he'll wind up exactly like Kurt.

Cold, bitter and alone, even in the biggest city in America.

Dying.

"I have to go," Kurt said quietly, catching a glimpse at his watch. He has work in a few hours and has to go home and get ready.

It's hard going home to an empty house, but Kurt can't bring himself to buy a cat. Who would look after it when he's gone?

"Okay," Blaine said, looking almost disappointed. "I'll see you next week."

"Sure." Kurt managed to keep the sarcasm out of his voice, giving Blaine a short wave before turning onto the street.

He couldn't help but look back.

And a small part of him, the only part of him that hasn't forgotten how to, hoped that this wasn't the last time he saw this strange man, out of place in a cold, mean world.

* * *

><p>That night Kurt was taken home by a blonde guy. He was nice, nicer than they usually come. Kurt could tell he was embarrassed by the situation, but Kurt doesn't bother to ask more than the usual top or bottom.<p>

He doesn't even find out his name.

Usually he laid on his stomach; eyes clenched shut against the pillow, trying to forget where he is.

But tonight he was met with a flash of the other guy's eyes. They were pretty, a light brown, almost gold sort of colour. They made him think of the leaves that haunt Central Park in the autumn, or warm cups of coffee in the winter.

They seemed familiar somehow…

_It's probably nothing, _Kurt told himself, but deep down he knew there was something.

He just didn't want to listen.

Kurt didn't have many friends. Most of his high school and college associates had drifted away, pursuing lives of their own.

* * *

><p>The only real friend he had was Santana.<p>

They worked well together, because she's a whiny gay bitch too. She doesn't have AIDS but she knows about Kurt and she's usually the one to make sure he takes his meds.

It was nice to think that someone actually cared.

Even if she tried her hardest to hide it.

They didn't go out much like most friends do. They work together, actually which was how they met. It was nice to have someone who understands at least partially what he was going through – someone he didn't have to be embarrassed with.

It was a rare escape, being with her.

On Friday, it was Santana's birthday, so for once they decided to ditch their usual Chinese takeout and bad made for TV marathon routine and go out to a nice bar, not like the dingy place they work.

_It's nice_, Kurt thought to himself, _to be able to walk into a bar without people constantly leering at you._

He received a few appreciative looks but that's about it. Most of their eyes are on Santana, who looks even lovelier than usual when she gets dressed up.

They got a table and their drinks and sit down, falling into light conversation as they listen to the evening's entertainment.

_Girl give me a second I,_

_I need to get my story straight_

_My friends are in the bathroom getting higher than the Empire State_

_My lover she's waiting for me just across the bar_

_My seat's been taken by some sunglasses asking bout a scar, and_

"He's good," Santana noted, swirling her mini umbrella in the pink contents of her half empty glass.

Kurt nodded his agreement, lifting his eyes to get a better look at him. There's something familiar about-

His heart caught in his throat.

It was Blaine.

_I know I gave it to you months ago_

_I know you're trying to forget_

_But between the drinks and subtle things_

_The holes in my apologies, you know_

_I'm trying hard to take it back_

_So if by the time the bar closes_

_And you feel like falling down_

_I'll carry you home_

Something inexplicable ran through him and although he tried to drink it back, he couldn't ignore it.

It was relief.

Blaine wasn't gone yet.

Blaine played well into the night. Kurt admired his versatility as a musician. He was talented, amazingly talented. Kurt wanted to live in his voice forever.

He wanted to live in that _moment_ forever. Because there was something about Blaine that makes him feel all these things that he's spent years repressing; hope, want, appreciation, beauty…

It was kind of crazy.

He was pretty sure Santana noticed too, because she kept smirking into her drink and when Blaine finished up, she excused herself to the bathroom with a knowing smile at him. He knew it was his chance to approach him, but he just couldn't bring himself-

"Kurt."

He didn't have to.

"Hi," Kurt returned, his voice embarrassingly high and a bit breathy.

Blaine smiled so big, Kurt thought his heart might explode.

"I saw you in the audience and wanted to say hi," he said, his smile never faltering.

"Well, hi," Kurt said, with a small laugh. Blaine laughed back, the sound happy, warm and pretty – like cupcakes.

"It looks like fate brought us together once more," Blaine said teasingly, his eyes flashing mischievously.

"I don't believe in fate," Kurt returned quickly. Blaine's smile dropped.

"Of course not," he said quietly, sighing a little.

"Do you play here, much?" Kurt asked in attempt to brush over his momentary guilt.

Blaine's eyes instantly lit up. "Sure do," he said eagerly. "I play here three days a week."

"You're very good," Kurt said, a light blush spreading over his cheeks at the sight of pure delight washing over Blaine's face.

"Why, thank you," he said, his eyes shining as he gave a little bow. Kurt bit back a laugh. _He's sort of adorable._

"Do you come here much?" Blaine asked, and there's something in his eyes that Kurt, now that's he so newly confronted with it, recognised as hope.

"No, actually," Kurt said, "it's my friend's birthday so we came out to celebrate…"

"You should come again sometime," Blaine asked, his voice light and careful.

Kurt couldn't help but smile. "Maybe we will."

* * *

><p>Kurt was shocked when he found himself excited to go to the meeting Monday morning.<p>

A surge of happiness rushed through him, more powerful than anything he can remember feeling in a long time, when he saw that Blaine was there.

He grinned at him when he arrived, beckoning him to take a seat beside him.

They sat next to each other the whole session.

The group leader liked to insist that there's no shame amongst them; that they should be totally honest with each other because they're all in the same boat.

Kurt can't help his pride. It's something he's been born with.

He never talks if he can help it.

Blaine doesn't talk either.

When the session lets out, Kurt is usually one of the first out the door, eager to get out of there. But today he could feel Blaine's brilliant eyes burning into him and suddenly he didn't feel like going anywhere.

"Did you want to get coffee?" Blaine asked suddenly. "I know a little place not far from here."

Kurt felt pleasant surprise wash through him. "I'd love to," he found himself agreeing, blushing a little and hoping he didn't sound too eager.

* * *

><p>Blaine's 'little place' was a gorgeous, warm and happy shop right down the road from the warehouse. Kurt shivered in the new found warmth and Blaine found them a place right by the fire.<p>

It was lovely.

"Okay," Blaine grinned as they waited in line for their coffee, "you have to let me guess your coffee order."

Kurt tilted his head to the side with interest. "I'd like to see you try…"

Blaine narrowed his eyes as he examined him. Kurt bit back a smile at his seriously thoughtful expression.

"It has to be non-fat…" he determined.

Kurt raised an eyebrow. "What makes you say that?" he asked. He was right of course…

Blaine blushed a little and ducked his head, mumbling something incoherent.

"Come again?" Kurt couldn't help but tease.

"Your body," Blaine said, a little louder. "You… you have a nice body."

Kurt felt his face flame up. Blaine's words from the other day echoed in his ears.

_You're beautiful…_

"Well," he said shortly, "I guess in my line of work it's sort of prerequisite."

Blaine lifted his head, quirking an eyebrow. "What's your job?"

"I'm a prostitute."

His mouth was set into a hard line, eyes dark and full of challenge, almost daring him to run away.

Because that's what Kurt always did.

He pushed people away when they got too close.

Most of the time people had just stopped trying. It had been a while since he had to do this.

He had forgotten how much it hurt.

"Cool," Blaine said dismissively, nodding. "So… non-fat then… but I don't know why, but you really strike me as the mocha kind of type… so I'm going to say non-fat mocha."

Kurt knows his expression must be openly shocked because Blaine is grinning like he won the fucking lottery of something.

"I was right, wasn't I?" he said excitedly.

"Yes," Kurt said faintly, utterly taken by the fact that Blaine doesn't even care that he's a whore for a living and is genuinely excited that he got his coffee order right and thinks he's beautiful and has a nice body… "You're right."

"Knew it," Blaine said in a sing song voice.

By now they were at the front of the line and Blaine turned to the lady at the register with a charming smile.

"Can I get a medium non-fat mocha for this guy and-"

"A medium drip," Kurt cut across, smirking at Blaine's bemused expression.

"How'd you know?" Blaine asked; his face incredulous as their server started preparing their coffee. Kurt shrugged and smiled.

"Just a feeling."

* * *

><p>The shift in Kurt's life was almost imperceptible. He didn't even register when his mind began to warm up to the idea of letting somebody new into his life. He never made exceptions for people.<p>

And yet, Blaine _was _the exception.

Because Blaine was Blaine. And Blaine _was._

And all of a sudden, he wasn't so alone. He had Blaine. It's stupid and cliché, but it's like Blaine was a lamp, highlighting everything in his life. It's not that he had Blaine and all of a sudden everything was perfect. It's that Blaine was there to show him that he never had nothing in the first place

It was an eerily quick transition. But Blaine was one of those, "I don't live in New York… I live in _the moment_" type of guys. They quickly fell into step and pattern and became best friends within a time so short that Kurt didn't think it was worthwhile to measure.

"Time is stupid," Blaine declared one day. "What is time really? When you're thinking about how much has passed more is passing and that time that you spent thinking about time could be spent living as opposed to measuring out how much time to live is left, when that time could have been longer had you not been thinking about how long you had left."

Kurt had told him to shut up afterwards, but the words had stuck with him. Why had he ever been so fixated on how much time he had left?

He had stopped himself from truly living out of fear of dying.

Somehow, everything seemed so much easier with Blaine around.

Too easy.

* * *

><p>Blaine was sort of this otherworldly creature to Kurt, an indescribable enigma of talent and beauty, shining magic wherever he went.<p>

Everywhere he walked heads turned, his smile brighter than the midday sun as he charmed his way into the hearts of the coldest New York-ians.

Kurt came to watch him play sometimes. He was good; so good that he just wanted to wrap himself in the lyrics of his songs and lay there forever, listening to his voice on repeat. He would never need anything else.

The festivity around the streets (in the form of obnoxious tress and carols blaring from every store as opposed to legitimate merriment) brought Kurt's attention to the time of year. It was nearly Christmas, which meant that Kurt and Blaine had been friends for a little over a month.

"You have to come to my show tonight," Blaine demanded as they waited in line for their usual coffee after the group session.

"Demanding," Kurt teased. "But I have work…"

"Blow it off," Blaine pleaded in a whiny voice. "I need you to be there."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Fine, I can probably sort something out."

And somehow, Blaine's gleeful expression made having to fake sickness over the phone for half an hour with his boss all worth it.

* * *

><p><em>I'll have a blue Christmas without you<em>

_I'll be so blue just thinking about you_

Kurt sighed to himself as he stirred his suspiciously festive coloured cocktail that Blaine bought him. _Blaine would, _he thought, rolling his eyes as Blaine crooned out yet another old Christmas tune. Of course he invited him to _Blaine's Christmas Spectacular _(as Kurt had coined it in his head) where he belted out every Christmas carol he knew.

As a child he had loved Christmas. He'd loved the sparkling lights, the pretty tree, making yummy cookies with his mom. As he matured into his teenage years he'd still enjoyed it, exchanging gifts with his friends and slaving over the kitchen for his family. Everyone was so happy.

But as he grew up, he grew out of it. The Christmas spirit had been nearly completely drained by the day he left college.

And now, he couldn't shake that nagging feeling that maybe this would be his last Christmas.

Blaine had had more than a significant impact on his life and perspective on everything. But there were still some nights when he couldn't shake the old thoughts and feelings that used to constantly haunt him.

Tonight was one of those nights.

Applause burst around him and he was suddenly aware of the songs end. He joined his hands together on auto pilot, not even recalling the song title. He felt slightly guilty, but he truly wasn't in the mood for carols tonight…

"Thank you," Blaine called over the microphone. "Now, for my next number…" his gold eyes were wicked as he scanned the bar, "I'd like to call up the very special and beautiful Kurt Hummel to sing with me."

Kurt felt eyes burning on him and utter mortification threatened to consume him. He shook his head frantically. He couldn't sing. Not now, with Blaine, in front of all these people. He hadn't sung in too long a time…

He didn't even know if he still could.

"Please, Kurt," Blaine whined, "it can be my Christmas present."

His eyes are wide and pleading and more beautiful than anything Kurt has ever seen. He sort of hated him a little bit right then.

"Fine," he sighed, knowing full well he'd regret it as he slipped out of his chair and reluctantly headed up onstage.

Blaine clapped like an excited child as he handed Kurt a microphone.

"Baby it's Cold Outside," he declared. Kurt bit his lip. _He knew that song…_

As the accompaniment began to play, Blaine did an adorable little jig before pointing at Kurt who lifted the microphone to his lips.

_I really can't stay… _

* * *

><p>They stumbled out of the bar a few hours later, Kurt basking in the memory of the song. It had been wonderful, singing again. Of course he wasn't as good as he once was, but it was still magical all the same.<p>

"You're voice is fucking beautiful," Blaine mumbled as he half leaned on Kurt for support.

"And you're fucking drunk," Kurt returned with a laugh. Blaine turned to him with heavy eyes.

"Only if you let me…" he said, his voice dark as he trailed a hand across his collarbone.

Kurt jumped back in shock; breaking his hold on Blaine and making him stumble a little.

"Okay," Kurt said, his voice breathy and higher than usual, "you're _really _drunk…"

"Stop thinking so much," Blaine mumbled, stumbling towards him again, trying to put his arms around him once more.

"Blaine," Kurt said warningly, but he could feel Blaine's hot breath against his neck and the faint press of his lips trailing up his skin.

"Kiss me."

"Ohh, no," Kurt exhaled, his voice shaky, "none of that…"

Blaine whined against his throat, sending vibrations through him. Kurt flinched at the feel of Blaine's hands, cold as they tried to meet his skin.

"Let me kiss you, _please_," he pleaded, his words slightly slurred in his drunken state. Kurt sighed to himself, knowing Blaine wouldn't be saying this otherwise.

"No, Blaine," Kurt said firmly, "you're _drunk_."

"'m fine," Blaine protested. "But I want you- I want you so bad, Kurt, and I've wanted you this whole time, but I've been too scared to say anything. I know you want me too-"

"Blaine!" Kurt finally yelled, pushing him back, sending him stumbling. "Just-stop."

"Why?" Blaine shouted. Kurt froze, not expecting his reaction. "Why the fuck not? You like me, I like you."

"Because!" Kurt screamed back, finally giving into the emotions that had been haunting him all night. "One of us is going to die Blaine, and then where will we be?"

"Well, here's a newsflash for you," Blaine snarled back, "there is scope for change in all over the world. Things change every day. But there is one thing that will never change. And that is the simple fact that everybody dies. One day. You keep saying that we're dying but guess what – so is every-fucking-body else. And sure, we're probably going to die earlier than a lot of people. But isn't that all the more reason to live now. To love, while we still can?"

"Because I don't even know you," Kurt managed, choking on the sudden lump in his throat.

Blaine narrowed his eyes at him. "That's utter _bullshit, _Kurt. I get that you've been hurt in the past and you're so used to putting up your stupid _walls _for everyone, but I thought I was different."

Kurt shook his head, tears suddenly clouding his vision. "I don't know you…" he whispered.

"Kurt," Blaine tried, but Kurt shook his head.

"How did you get AIDS, Blaine?"

Silence.

"Ugh," Kurt threw his hands up in frustration. "Never mind… it's none of my business…"

"Kurt, please," Blaine pleaded, but Kurt was already leaving.

"I'll see you around, Blaine."

Or not.

* * *

><p>It was strange and just a little stupid, but life was so utterly <em>strange <em>when accompanied with a Blaine shaped void.

It had been what, a month, since they met?

It felt like a lifetime.

The days passed in a stream of endless working nights and empty days. He spendt Christmas with Santana; they drunk twice their weight in root beer and ate far more food than they can afford. It was nice. Almost enough to forget everything and lose themselves.

Almost.

Blaine stopped coming to the group sessions. He wondered if he was the only one who registered it. He barely saw a flicker of eyes to the empty seat beside him. A nagging worry haunted him constantly.

_Was he okay? Was he still alive?_

And somewhere in his mind, Kurt decided that if he ever found out that Blaine had passed he would join him; early.

* * *

><p>"Okay, Hummel, what the fuck is up with you?"<p>

Santana's words snapped him out of his reverie and he looked up from his beer with a surprised expression.

"What, sorry?" he asked, blushing a little at being caught up.

Santana sighed. "Look, Kurt, you've been even more distant than usual. What's happened?"

Kurt bit his lip, wondering if he dared to tell her what was playing on his mind.

"San…" he began carefully, "have you ever been in love?"

* * *

><p>He felt disgusting.<p>

Sometimes when he looked into the mirror he could see just how sick he really was.

He hated himself.

He wondered absently if his clients noticed. Noticed the sallowness to his cheeks, the dullness of his blue eyes.

He wondered if they cared.

He wondered how much longer he really had left.

* * *

><p>And then one night, everything changed.<p>

The snow had melted under a new sun, the days descending into the gradual spring warmth. There weren't any flowers yet, no sweet signs of life.

But they were on the precipice of a new beginning.

Tonight he was dancing. He hated dancing for them. He hated the way their eyes linger on the parts of him he once kept so sacred, so private. He hated feeling so cheap, so exposed.

_Like the whore he truly was._

After he was done, he just wanted to throw all their money away.

But he needed it.

He sauntered into the backroom, masking his relief under his smoky eyes and fake smile. He exhaled the second the gentle thud of the closing door sounded and gathered his things as fast as he could, wanting to leave as soon as possible.

He didn't feel his eyes on him as he left.

He was a new customer. Kurt didn't recognise him.

He seemed to recognise Kurt though.

"I'll pay you whatever you want," he pleaded. "Just one night… I want you so bad."

Kurt recoiled in sheer disgust, trying to bat him away. "No-no I'm not working anymore."

"I don't care," the man snapped. "You're a whore and I'm horny-"

"No!" Kurt shrieked as he pinned him against the wall, groping him through his tight jeans. He clenched his eyes shut, trying frantically to escape his iron grip. "Get away-"

"GET THE FUCK OFF HIM!"

The man let go in a second at the sound of the raging voice behind him. Kurt's legs gave way under him and he slid to the cold, dirty ground, clutching at his stomach and willing himself not to fall apart.

He closed his eyes, trying to quell the pounding in his head.

A moment later he felt another warm body press against him and there's another set of arms around him, this pair a kind one, helping holding him together.

Kurt has no idea how long he spent sobbing into the warmth of Blaine's chest. It's too easy to forget time with him.

"Oh my god," he breathed when words would finally come, "I missed you so fucking much."

"I know, baby, I know," Blaine cooed back, keeping up a stream of comforting words. "I'm here now."

Kurt nodded, trying to bury himself deeper into Blaine. Trying to forget the cold, the pain, the hurt, the everything.

Blaine was here now.

* * *

><p>Life quickly shaped itself around Blaine once more.<p>

They moved in together. Kurt didn't miss his old apartment.

He quit his work. He just couldn't do it anymore. There's only one person he could stand falling into bed with, and that man would love and hold him until daybreak.

He was his everything.

The spring was nice. Blaine knew a lot of lovely little places. He took him to the park and they held hands on the swing sets, not saying anything at all, but pretending they're little kids again, back when everything was so simple and easy.

_Childhood is the kingdom where nobody dies. _

Blaine took him back to their old coffee shop. It felt right sitting by the fire again, holding hands under the table, giggling as Blaine rests his socked foot on his upper thigh, making him squirm.

"You know," Blaine said one day. "You never did tell me how you knew my coffee order."

"You never told me how you got AIDS," Kurt returned before he could help himself, his blood running cold as soon as he realised what he had said.

Blaine looked just as shocked as he was, but recovered quickly. "You tell me first."

"I saw you looking at the menu," he answered, his voice barely a whisper.

Blaine is silent for a moment before letting out a round of incredulous laughter that ends in a spluttering cough. Kurt squeezed his hand sympathetically.

"I fell into the wrong crowd, I guess," Blaine answered quietly. "My boyfriend… he gave me my first injection."

Kurt stifled a gasp, trying to keep his expression from expressing his horror.

"I got hooked," Blaine continued, his voice cracking a little, "and every day is a struggle not to just…"

Kurt's eyes widened as Blaine's hand began to tremor in his. He squeezed it tightly, willing it to steady.

"Hold on to me, baby," Kurt whispered, trying to reassure him as tears sprung to his molten gold eyes. "I've got you."

It was the closest he'd ever seen Blaine to breaking.

Blaine was working on something. Kurt was more than curious.

"What are you doing?"

He sprung at him from behind the couch, trying to catch him by surprise. Blaine rolled his eyes, shutting his laptop before Kurt could even get a peek, twisting his head to plant a quick kiss on his forehead.

"It's a surprise," he intoned seriously, ignoring Kurt's protests as he pawed at the small computer.

"Please, Blaine," Kurt pleaded, eyes wide and hopeful. Blaine chuckled and pushed him away gently.

"No, baby," he sighed. "It's… its really special."

Kurt bit his lip but didn't push any further.

* * *

><p>Some nights were worse than others.<p>

Some nights Kurt held Blaine tightly all through the night, his sobs horrific and heart wrenching as he shook uncontrollably.

"I-I need it," Blaine would sob, crying hard into his chest. "Please… Kurt…"

"No," Kurt would whisper back, as strong as he could, "you're stronger than this."

Blaine would weep, but he would know that Kurt was right.

What Kurt didn't know was that _Kurt _was what made him strong. He gave him something to fight for.

He hadn't relapsed since the day they met.

* * *

><p>Some days were easier than others. They'd lay down together, wrapped up in each other's warmth, watching a DVD, falling asleep to each other's breathing.<p>

These were Kurt's favourite moments. Moments that were so simple, yet that he never thought he'd ever get to have.

They liked musicals the best. They'd duet on their favourites, but Kurt liked it best when he could get Blaine to sing for him, resting his head against his chest and falling asleep to the beautiful tones of his voice.

_Seasons may change, winter to spring_

_But I love you until the end of time…_

* * *

><p>Kurt felt it coming.<p>

Death.

He could feel its presence creeping up on him. Soon, he knew he'd have to let go and take that giant leap of faith into the darkness.

He could feel himself close to the edge. Blaine could feel it too.

"Not yet," he said determinedly.

Kurt didn't know what he was waiting for.

Some days he just wanted it to be over. He wasn't scared of it anymore.

Not when he had Blaine.

* * *

><p>Thunder crackled outside the cramped windows of Blaine's apartment. Kurt opened his bleary eyes to dim light and Blaine hovering over him, his eyes bright enough for the whole world.<p>

"What's going on?" Kurt asked, feeling as if he was half asleep. He ran a hand gently across Blaine's face. He looked tired too. So very tired.

"It sold," Blaine said, his voice trembling with presumable excitement.

"What did?"

"My play!" Blaine exclaimed, snuggling under the covers and into Kurt's side, pulling out a manuscript.

Kurt felt a smile tugging at his lips. "Is this what you've been hiding from me this whole time?"

Blaine nodded eagerly. "I'm going to read it to you now."

Kurt nodded, allowing his eyes to drift shut gently. "Okay," he agreed happily.

The storm was settling as Blaine turned over the last page of the script. The little _fin i_s printed down the bottom of the page, and Kurt felt proud for his love, proud that he was able to accomplish something so amazing.

"See," Blaine whispered as he closed _Dancing Till Death_. "We won't fade away after all… they're going to remember us forever."

"I can't believe you wrote me a play," Kurt said numbly.

"I didn't," Blaine smiled.

"_I wrote it for us."_


End file.
